Maleficent(19)
“Now he will be king! He did this to me so he would be king!” It infuriated her that his betrayal continued to surprise her. How had she not seen this coming? He was just like every other human, trying to steal to have more. More riches, more land, more power. Letting out a piercing scream, she raised her staff, shooting a lightning bolt into the dark sky.
“Now what, mistress?” Diaval asked.
Her rage purged for the moment, Maleficent slowly lowered her staff, panting and exhausted from the effort. She had been a fool to think the trouble with the humans was over. History was repeating itself once again. It was only a matter of time before Stefan and his army came after the Moors. He knew better than Henry what riches lay there. And that meant it was time to go home.
Maleficent and Diaval arrived at the beautiful Faerie Mound in the center of the Moors as night fell. The plants were brittle and brown, clearly undernourished; the streams had stopped flowing, pooling into dark, dirty spots of water; many of the creatures lay about listlessly. The energy in the atmosphere seemed to have been sucked dry. It was clear that the faerie world had begun to unravel in the weeks during which Maleficent had been gone, and was now in rough shape. But that was all about to change.
Stepping forward, Maleficent made her way toward the Mound. On her shoulder, Diaval the raven squawked nervously as all around her the faeries began to whisper. “Her wings!” one said to another. “They’re gone!” a dew faerie whispered loudly.
Maleficent ignored them, gliding to the center of the Mound, a hard look in her eye. Dead tree branches suddenly rose from the ground, writhing together like snakes. They formed a tall throne behind Maleficent, and she lowered herself onto it while keeping her gaze in front of her.
The Fair Folk looked up at her cold gaze, the command in her presence. She was barely recognizable anymore. They bowed to her instinctually, quaking in fear. The Moors had a self-appointed leader now.
Across the grove, Robin observed the scene, hovering in the brush. He wanted to fly to Maleficent’s side, to comfort her, to tell her one of their old jokes, to make her face crinkle in a familiar smile. But he knew it would be pointless. Maleficent had grown embittered and dark. Whatever she’d been through had changed her completely. The only thing he and the other Fair Folk could do now was stay out of her way. Tears welled up in his bright eyes as he flew away from the scene. He’d lost Hermia and Lysander long before. And now he felt he’d lost Maleficent.
Over the next year, Maleficent hardly noticed that the other Fair Folk seemed wary of her. She spent most of her time alone or with Diaval, who she sent on nearly daily missions to the castle to bring back any news, hearing all about Stefan’s new life as king, and his beautiful wife, King Henry’s daughter. It took all Maleficent’s energy to quell the infuriating surge of hurt within her. Maleficent had more important things to think about, such as the well-being of the Moors, and just what Stefan would do when he had settled in at the castle. While she was doing all she could to keep the Moors safe and had brought some semblance of peace and restored order, she remained pensive and often distracted. It was hard to focus on the Moors when danger was so close.
She was sitting on her throne, rubbing its rough edges, when Diaval returned from one of his trips. Waving her hand, she transformed him into a human. He stood in front of her, nervously twitching and scratching at his skin. Even though he had been changed dozens of times, he still had a hard time adjusting to the human form. However, that day he seemed even more uncomfortable.
“Tell me,” Maleficent said, instantly on the alert.
“I’ve been to the castle,” Diaval began.
Maleficent sighed. “I know,” she said, trying to remain patient. “I sent you there. Tell me what you saw.”
“I saw nothing,” he answered, running his hands through his hair. “But I heard…” He coughed nervously. “There’s been a…” His voice trailed off.